Rebel (Rebel Stars Book 0)

by Edward W. Robertson

  A woman's voice came through the comm. Crisp. Confident. Teasing. "You don't say."

  Parson swung to face Genner. "Defenses. Now. Give me everything you've got!"

  Genner nodded, hands flashing over the controls. "Do you know them?"

  "No," he said. "But I know their type. Pirates."

  The word hung in the air like a sphere of steam in the microgravity of the moon. Heart racing, Rada clipped herself into her chair.

  2

  Readouts for the defense systems splayed across the screens. Parson spoke into his comm, his voice echoing throughout the ship. "All hands! This is an emergency. Buckle down and sit tight."

  Within moments, several voices chattered across the line.

  "People!" Parson barked. "You want to get out of here intact? Then stay put and shut up. You'll know everything as soon as we're in the clear."

  "Oh Captain Parson," the woman said from the unidentified vessel. "I can't help but notice you're attempting to flee."

  "If I'm fleeing," he snarled, "that must mean you are pursuing. If you persist, the consequences will be dire."

  She laughed. It wasn't scornful or derisive. It was delighted. "Like what?"

  "Let's not allow it to come to that."

  "Then here's what you need to do for me. Kill your engines. Confine your crew to quarters. And allow us to board."

  "All we're carrying is ore," Parson said.

  "Yes, your outgoing messages made that perfectly clear. Next time, I'd recommend paying for real encryption. I'll need you in the hold to show me the choicest parts of the lode. If you cooperate, none of your people will be harmed."

  "And if I refuse?"

  The woman laughed again. "Then you'll all be harmed."

  Parson closed his eyes. "Give me an hour to decide."

  "An hour? You've got fifteen minutes."

  He cut the comm and turned to Genner, his expression haggard and wry. "That's thirteen minutes more than I expected. I don't think we can outrun them—they've already got a head of steam. That means our options are to let them board us, or to fight. Can you tell anything about their armament?"

  Genner pulled a schematic up on one of the screens at the front of the bridge. "They're flying a Scimitar-class. Originally intended for scouting/light skirmishing. Unknown modifications. But they're pirates—they will be armed."

  "Unless they're bluffing."

  "Or they're bluffing about not harming us. We've got nothing but game theory, Captain."

  "This is no game."

  "Game theory," she insisted. "We have to weigh our odds in a fight versus the odds they're telling the truth about not hurting us."

  "This sounds all wrong," Rada said. "They're going to try to parse out the best ore and leave the rest? How many days will that take them?"

  "It's not impossible.

  "But it's a hell of a lot easier to flush us out the lock and take the entire ship."

  Parson tented his fingers over his nose. "Pirate attacks happen every week. Genner, I know you've done the research. How do they typically go down?"

  The copilot shrugged. "Forty percent of boardings result in one or more fatalities for the boarded party."

  "Forty percent."

  "In those incidents, 84 percent of the time, the captain is among the fatalities."

  Parson swore. "Then we're at high risk either way. I'm inclined to fight. See if they've got the claws to match their growl."

  "Wouldn't surprise me if not," Rada said. "If you're strong, pretend weakness. If you're weak, pretend strength."

  Parson's brows drew together. "Did you come up with that?"

  "Sure. After reading it in Sun Tzu."

  He shook his head. She said no more, allowing him to believe the reference must be highly obscure. She wasn't exactly a scholar, but she'd learned that if you read anything at all—especially Pre-Virus literature—you sounded qualified to found a college.

  "And what do you do," he said, "if you're stronger than they think, but not strong enough to stand toe to toe?"

  "Trick them." Before speaking the words, she had no plan, but it arrived in her mind fully formed. "Launch the shuttle. Pretend you're on it, abandoning the ship."

  "But they'll have bioscans. They'll know it's unmanned."

  "Bioscans can't tell the difference between what's alive and what's dead. Fill up one of the suits with protein mush from the dispenser."

  Parson burst into laughter. "Either they'll come for the shuttle, exposing themselves to the Turtle, or they'll paste it, and we'll get a better look at what we're up against. Either way, they'll think we're so weak that my only choice was to make a run for it."

  Genner glanced between them. "We're committing to a fight, then."

  "Not necessarily." Parson unclipped himself from his seat. "We'll make a decision based on what they show us. If we've got no chance, you'll pretend I tried to escape without you." He stood; now that they were off thrust, there was no gravity, but his soles were magnetic. "Stem! Yed! Karry! Meet me at the shuttle right now. Rada, you handle the suit."

  She extricated herself from the chair, ran to the bulkhead to grab a suit from the compartment, and raced to the galley. She closed the suit vacuum-tight, inserted the dispenser's nozzle into the suit's intake valve, and started pumping mush. It took several minutes to fill. Finished, she detached the nozzle and ran downstairs to the shuttle, carrying the suit like a giant sloppy balloon.

  There, the four men were wrestling big black tanks into the back of the shuttle. Explosive charges, meant for mining work. Karry was bent over them, installing what looked like detonators.

  "Added wrinkle," Parson said. "If they try to capture the shuttle, we blow them into the next dimension."

  "I like it." Rada held out the suit. "Where shall I put you, Captain?"

  "Buckle him in. I've got some messages to record. Nothing draws in a cat like the squeal of a wounded mouse."

  As Rada strapped in the suit full of pink goo, Parson leaned over the shuttle's device, recording a handful of vague phrases. She got the gist: that way, the shuttle could send legit transmissions of its own, completing the illusion.

  The entire operation didn't take ten minutes. With the shuttle ready, they ran back to the bridge and secured themselves in their seats.

  "Time's almost up," the woman from the other vessel said as they were settling in. "What's it going to be, good sir?"

  "My ship is all yours." Parson winked at Rada. "I, however, will not be on it."

  "Tsk tsk, that wasn't the deal. I need you to show me around, remember?"

  "My master of operations will be more useful to you than I would be." He punched a button. On tactical, an orange dot representing the shuttle arced away from the Box Turtle. "I leave you to do as you will."

  "Unacceptable, sir." For the first time, the woman's tone lost all notes of playfulness. "I can't allow you to just go scooting off. Kill your engines now, and I'll make sure none of the torture leaves permanent marks."

  Parson muted his comm and turned to the bridge. "We made the right decision. You all ready to fight?"

  "Absolutely," Stem said.

  The others nodded, grunted, did their best to look stern. The thought of fighting boarders inside the ship made Rada sick, but this wasn't the only feeling she found in her heart. There was something more primal there, too. And it looked forward to what would come next.

  The shuttle peeled away from the mining ship, fleeing into the void. The Scimitar-class leapt forward to intercept, gaining quickly. A sensor beeped as the enemy vessel crossed into effective engagement range of the Turtle. The other ship was L-shaped, its short leg aligned horizontally to form the bow, its long leg trailing behind. It was plain black, a shadow on the stars.

  Parson and Genner hovered over their controls, eyes locked on the screens. The Scimitar came up on the shuttle. It deployed a few missiles, leaving them out as a picket in case the life raft had any rockets of its own. The Scimitar eased closer until the two
dots were nearly touching on the tactical screen.

  "Come on," Parson murmured. "A little closer."

  The Scimitar remained parked behind the shuttle. The comm stayed silent. The L-shaped vessel began to flip around to boost back toward the Box Turtle.

  "They smell a rat," Parson said. "Detonate the shuttle."

  Genner swung her head his way. "Sir, they're still out of effective—"

  "I said punch it! Before they back off!"

  She tapped her device. On the screen, the shuttle vaporized in an expanding sphere of white fire. The sphere approached the Scimitar, stalled, and collapsed on itself, winking away. The Scimitar remained in one piece.

  "Well, that was a fun idea," Parson said, all joy drained from his voice. "Genner, prepare to engage."

  "Hold it." Genner waved her hand above her device, zooming closer.

  The Scimitar was indeed in one piece, but smoke and gas were gushing from gashes in its hull. The shuttle's shrapnel had punched holes across the Scimitar's face. As Rada watched, pieces of the ship's blunt bow peeled away, tumbling into the darkness.

  "That's how you do it, Captain!" Stem said. "We got the assholes!"

  A tongue of fire spewed from the Scimitar's flank. Cheers erupted across the bridge. More flames burst from its belly, but they didn't look right. While Rada was still trying to understand what she was seeing, the screen screeched to warn them of incoming missiles.

  "Full evasion and counters!" Parson yelled. "They're breaking apart. That's everything they've got."

  Genner gestured furiously. The Box Turtle flipped nose to tail to point its engines toward the dying pirates' rockets. Rada's stomach flipped, too. Then she was smashed into her chair by the Turtle accelerating as hard as its frame and the humans inside it could stand.

  Her vision went gray, then disappeared completely. The clamor of the bridge became garbled, like voices heard underwater.

  When her vision came back, the screen was a mess of streaks and blooms, missiles and counter-rockets exploding in strings. A second flock of counters drove forward, bursting across the incoming wave. Several of the enemy missiles veered around the scrum of fire.

  Genner's hands clattered on the controls, firing the remainder of the Box Turtle's defenses. The remaining missiles were picked off one by one—but two made it past the screen of rockets.

  "What have we got left?" Parson creaked.

  "Flares," Genner said. "A couple of poppers."

  "No sense saving them. If I had one, I'd be flicking my lighter at this point."

  On the screen showing the view from the stern, blinding lights burned across the void. The two missiles drove inward. One went off, the fire of its death overwhelming the sensors. The Turtle jarred like it had been kicked, rattling Rada's bones.

  "Incoming!" Genner yelled.

  The ship rolled across all three axes. The reactive supports of Rada's chair gripped her, preventing her neck from snapping. Her vision pinholed and blipped off. She felt a moment of peace, like the way she lowered into sleep on the rare nights she was sober. The ship shook. Still semi-conscious, she flopped in her seat as the Box Turtle leapt forward harder than she had ever felt it move.

  ~

  Pain. Taste of copper. She'd bitten her tongue. Flashing lights and blaring klaxons. The smell of smoke? The ship was juddering, shaking her erratically, but with nowhere near the force of the impact moments before. The bridge looked hazy, distorted. The captain lolled in his seat. Genner was gawping over her controls.

  Rada leaned to her right as the Turtle turned to port. As her senses sharpened to something approaching usefulness, the eerie blue of Neptune swept across the bow screen. Blue bands and spots mottled its surface. It slipped across the screen as Genner reoriented the ship toward Nereid.

  "What's going on out there?" Stem said from the seats at the back of the bridge. "I mean, what the shit?"

  "We caught the last missile just off our tail," Genner said. "All kinds of engine damage. Can't afford to run them more than a few minutes more."

  "So shut them off." Rada gestured vaguely. "We can float here until rescue arrives, can't we?"

  "The engines are leaking, Rada. If we stay, they'll cook us with radiation. If they don't explode first."

  "Explode?" Yed said. "So what are we supposed to do?"

  "I'm setting us back down on Nereid," Genner said. "Don't know if I can maneuver us to the pad. Could be a rough landing."

  Rada stared at the icy blob approaching on the screen. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

  "Hang on tight."

  The moon grew on the screen. The Box Turtle's engines stuttered. Captain Parson inhaled sharply and popped open his eyes. He demanded an immediate status report. Calmly, Genner informed him that she'd sent a distress call, the pirates were dead, the Turtle was dangerously compromised, and they were headed down to the moon.

  "Scan for the nearest safe spot to set down," Parson said. "Rada, Karry, as soon as we touch down, I want you to prep the carts. Stem and Yed, grab up everything we'll need for hostile environmental survival—air, food, water, supplies. Genner, how long until we make landfall?"

  Genner tapped commands into her device. "I've got a stable platform of bare rock dead ahead. Three minutes."

  "Everyone, get suited up. Move!"

  The crew untangled themselves from their seats and rushed to acquire their suits. Rada helped Stem seal his, then turned to let him do the same.

  "We're going to be just fine," he said. "Triton ain't far. Someone will come for us."

  "I have no doubt," she said.

  By the time they were back in their seats, the streaked and cratered surface of Nereid filled the screen. Genner counted down as the autopilot pulsed the ship's maneuvering thrusters. Steam gushed across the screens. The Turtle set down with a hollow thud.

  Before it stopped rocking, Rada bolted from her chair and ran for the cargo hold. Gravity was nearly nonexistent and her strides were long and fluid. The ship's computer had readied the carts, but she and Karry ran a manual check and cleared unnecessary equipment from their holds. Stem and Yed rushed in bearing a wagon loaded with sealed containers. Rada helped stack them inside.

  Parson arrived with Genner. He assigned Genner, Stem, and Karry to one cart, leaving himself, Rada, and Yed in the other.

  "Roll out, Genner," he said. "We'll be right behind you."

  Genner drove into the airlock. The door closed behind them.

  While waiting for it to cycle, Parson passed Rada and Yed each a transparent pack of two green pills. "Don't wait."

  Rada fed hers into the suit's hopper and took them with a swallow of water from her tube. "How much radiation did we take on?"

  "Enough to want to take our pills."

  The airlock panel went green; the doors parted. Rada rolled them inside. The lock was hardly any larger than the cart. She felt a moment of claustrophobia. The doors opened, disgorging them onto the still, icy surface of the moon. Stars enclosed the horizons. Her claustrophobia abruptly became agoraphobia.

  Genner was on the move toward a shallow crater a few miles from the Turtle. There was no weather on Nereid, but the location would shelter them in the event the ship's engines melted down. Keeping both eyes on the ice, Rada let the autopilot carry the cart along.

  In the middle seat, Yed twisted, trying futilely for a look behind them. "What happens if the ship goes up?"

  "Then I cry myself to sleep," Parson said. "It can't fly out of here in the shape it's in. Either way, we're depending on a rescue team."

  Yed went silent. Rada thanked the stars. Ahead, Genner's cart slowed as it ascended the long, shallow slope surrounding the crater. Once it reached the rim, it followed the crater's circumference to a ramp of ice and rock leading down to the interior, which was floored with a solid sheet of ice. Snowflakes glittered in the cart's wake, weak and blue in the dim light reflected from Neptune. Genner's vehicle came to a stop. Rada's parked beside it.

  "I've been in cont
act with a team on Triton," Parson said across their comms. "It's going to take them a couple hours to get ready and a few more to reach us. I can't think of any good reason to leave these carts until then."

  "What if they're late?" Yed said. "Or decide it's not worth it?"

  "What kind of questions are those?" Rada said. "Someone will come for us."

  "You don't know that. There's no government on Triton besides IRP, and they don't believe in giving help to outsiders. What if no one's willing? And we can't offer them enough to risk it?"

  "Then we're dead, aren't we? Unless you learn to eat ice and breathe vacuum, we're dead. What point is it to plan for something that can't be escaped?"

  "Enough," Parson said. "I've already negotiated with the team. If that falls through, we'll find another one. Absurd-case scenario, I can offer someone the Turtle."

  "'Less it blows up," Karry muttered.

  "Right," Stem said. "Or they wait for us to die, then invoke the Law of the Inky Void and claim it gratis."

  "Glad to know I hired such dauntless optimists." Inside the cart's cab, Parson turned to Rada and grimaced. "If the time comes to openly speculate about our own deaths, we'll do so then. In the meantime? Kindly shut up."

  Both carts fell silent. After a long pause, Karry burst out laughing. For an instant, Rada was senselessly enraged by him, and then she joined him, squeezing her eyes shut, doubled forward, the laughter of the whole crew pealing through the comm.

  It grew quiet again. They rehashed the run-in with the Scimitar, Parson relating the initial phase of the encounter to those who hadn't been on the bridge at the time. Stem made some not-quite-jokes about wishing he'd filled his suit's water pouch with pig, but despite the excitement—or perhaps because of it—Rada felt no particular yearning for a drink.

  The others were still talking, but she found herself nodding off. She jerked awake, heart racing, and checked her O2 levels. Seeing they were fine, she let herself drift to sleep.

  The first time she woke, the comms were silent, the inside of the crater perfectly motionless. The second time, Parson and Genner were talking softly, technical details about the state of the Box Turtle. As Rada awoke, she gathered that Genner believed the ship was unlikely to explode, but couldn't yet rule it out. It sounded to Rada like they were going to have a long leave ahead of them.